ar hyd y nos
by ladyoftheknightley
Summary: Ron's thoughts, in between leaving Harry and Hermione and going back to them, during Deathly Hallows. Hints of R/Hr, for the one line challenge at the HPFC forum.


**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to the magnificent JK Rowling; no profit is being made from this.

**A/N:** Written for WeasleySeeker's One Line Competition over at the HPFC Fourm. For those wondering about the title, Ar Hyd Y Nos is the original Welsh version of the carol 'All Through The Night', which, despite it being almost midsummer, helped inspire me to write this! To fully appreciate the song, listen to it sung by a male voice choir – it's gorgeous.

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_ar hyd y nos_

Late into the night, the snow fell and fell.

I sat and watched it from the window of the guest room – I couldn't think of it as _my_ room – in Bill and Fleur's little cottage on the Cornish coast. Honestly, their house is so close to the sea that it's a miracle any snow fell there at all, but Bill says the Dementors, who've left Azkaban and are working with You Know Who now, are the ones causing the bad weather, so I guess it's not really a miracle, just Dark Magic.

And that's much less Christmassy.

Not that snow at Christmas would necessarily be a bad thing, except of course, it doesn't feel much like Christmas this year what with all the death and destruction. Plus, the snow reminds me too much of Christmases at Hogwarts, and Harry and Hermione, and I can't bring myself to think about them for too long after what I did to them. I hope they're having a nice Christmas, or as nice as can be, under the current circumstances. I wonder if they even know it's Christmastime? It was kind of hard to keep track of the days when we were hidden away (and, of course, even harder to find us – which I should think of as a good thing, but right now just makes me feel even worse, like I'll never find them again).

I haven't stopped thinking about them ever since I left, which I regretted doing about thirty seconds after I'd gone through Hermione's protective enchantments. Of course, she's such a good spell caster that I couldn't find them again, especially after I'd accidentally walked straight into a gang of Snatchers and had to fight them off. I had no chance.

So I did the only thing I could think of and come here, to Bill's place. He's always been decent to me – not that the others don't love me, of course, but Fred and George and Ginny especially would have skinned me alive for leaving the others (not that I'd blame them, but I can't have them all going to Azkaban for my murder, Mum'd never forgive me). Percy's out of the question, obviously, and Charlie might have helped me but there's no way I could get to Romania. I could tell Bill was disappointed in me but he was good and didn't ask too many questions or try and make me feel guilty – though Merlin only knows, I've been doing enough of that myself.

I spent most of the first week sleeping, and if Fleur had not insisted that I eat dinner at a table in the kitchen, not in a bed off a tray, I would've spent all of my time in that tiny room, too. But her instance on Good Manners or Decorum or The Expected Behaviour of a Gentleman or whatever the hell she calls it probably saved me from wallowing too much.

Yes, I was still consumed with guilt for what I did, but I realised that I needed to get back to them with something more than just myself. Obviously, I couldn't go around asking Bill and Fleur about Horcruxes – and even if I had, I doubted they'd have been much help as it's not the kind of thing most people know about. So instead, I 'borrowed' all of Bill's old books on curses and cursebreaking and spent ages in the garden practising and practising. I was going to go back to them a better wizard in at least one way.

For a while, this was all I needed. I practised and practised, got my strength back and things were starting to go well. I poured over old maps of the UK, even studied some of Ireland and Northern France, trying to work out all the possible places they might go. Bill worked out what I was doing, and forbade me from going back until after Christmas was over. "I just need to know you're alive on Christmas Day," he said, and when your big brother says something like that to you, you don't argue.

And so I packed my bag with everything I thought we might need – the maps and the spare wands I was particularly proud of getting, a replenished potions kit for injuries – practised the curses one last time, and settled down to wait the last couple of days until Christmas was over, like Bill suggested.

And then, all of a sudden, it was Christmas Eve and all I had to do was wait and _think_. Everything was packed and ready, Bill and Fleur went to bed early and I followed them to my room (there was no point sitting looking at a tree with presents under it, what with all the family memories that brought back), but I couldn't sleep. Everything was packed and ready, yes, but I had _no_ idea how I was really going to find Harry and Hermione – or even _if_ I would. I knew how powerful a witch Hermione was, and there was no getting through her spells. Finally stopping with all the things I had been doing since I arrived at Shell Cottage gave me time to think, and in that time I realised that, realistically, I wasn't going to find them again.

It killed me to admit that, but I knew it was true. Hermione, once again, had proved too good for me. It wasn't enough that I'd never be good enough for her, now I wasn't even going to be good enough to _find_ her again. No matter what everyone thought, that we were the "Golden Trio"…I knew that wasn't true. Only two parts of the trio were actually needed: Hermione and her brains, and Harry, because of the prophecy – the brawn, I suppose. I wasn't even handsome enough to count as the good looking one, especially compared to Harry. I must have been mad to think that Hermione would ever go for _me_, and everyone who thought that we somehow 'clicked' together as a trio was even madder: you couldn't be a trio if one third of you was useless.

Even bloody Dumbledore seemed to know how useless I was. I _am_. All he left me was that Deluminator, which, yes, was kind of cool for about thirty seconds, but then you start to think about what it really does: it puts out lights. And there are about a million and five spells that can do the same thing. Did he think I wasn't even capable of doing the most basic magic to turn off the lights?

Suddenly, I was so angry at him. He must have known I was hopeless and rubbish and would leave them, so he gave me a toy to distract me. Nobody would ever take _Ron Weasley_ seriously. He was just like a child that needed placating.

I threw open the window, wincing backwards from the cold snow that was still falling, and rummaged around in my rucksack for the Deluminator. I wanted to throw it out of the window, throw it as far away as possible.

Picking it up meant that I accidentally flipped the top of it, but instead of the lights going out, Hermione's voice came out of it.

She was saying my name.

I was so shocked, I dropped the thing. The clatter it made, landing on the wooden floorboards, drowned out most of the rest of her sentence, but I gathered she was saying something about wands, though I had no idea why. It had fallen silent by the time I had it back in my hands, and so I flipped the top again, eager to hear her voice once more, but it stayed silent.

Instead, a ball of blue light floated out of it, through the window and stayed hovering in the garden of Shell Cottage. And then it came to me: to get back to them, all I had to do was step into the ball of light and apparate, and the light would take me to them. I wasn't conscious of making the plan; it was as though it was already in my mind and just needed me to realise it. I knew, as well, though I couldn't tell you how, that it was okay, this was not a trick or a load of dark magic. I knew that it would be okay, that this would get me back to Harry and my Hermione. _Thank you Dumbledore_.

I threw on my clothes and shoes as quickly as possible, and picked up my rucksack. I felt kind of bad for not staying over Christmas, like Bill had asked, but I knew that this wouldn't wait, that it had to be done _now_.

Despite my joy at the possibility of reuniting with them, I was still alert, and when I heard a noise in the kitchen, I stopped, wondering if it was safe to go down. I was just about to draw my wand when I heard Fleur's voice, asking who was there.

"It's only me," I said, entering the kitchen and lowering my wand with relief.

She stood with a glass of water in her hand, taking in my outdoor clothing, trainers and rucksack. "You are leaving, aren't you?" I just nodded. She looked like she wanted to stop me, but she held herself back. "Be careful," was all she said. "We will always be 'ere if you need us."

"I know," I said. "And…thank you, for everything."

"Eet was my pleasure," she said. "Now, go, before your bruzzer wakes!"

I stepped out into the cold, snowy night, and went to close the back door. "Merry Christmas, Ron!" cried Fleur, before I could shut it completely.

"Merry Christmas, Fleur," I answered, stepping out completely into the garden. I was glad it was her I had met, and not Bill – she didn't try to stop me, whereas I knew he would have, and I wouldn't have been able to say no to him.

The snow fell around me, and I knew that once I stepped out of the boundaries of the garden, I would be completely unprotected. But as I stepped into the blue light and felt its warmth fill my body, despite the cold, I knew I would be alright.

How could I not be, when I was going to see Hermione again?

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